Six Sunflowers
by DREVtheProcrastinator
Summary: The Second World War rages on. In the early hours of a quiet summer morning in 1943, two sisters try to deal with the toll of war on their family. (Human AU)


A/N: This is my first fic I've published, making a summary is so hard you guys. This was inspired by the word prompt "bloom" on the Hetalia Writer's Discord, from the drabble game last April, and, well. This kinda... Is not even remotely a drabble. I might've gotten a bit carried away with this, just a little.

This has also been translated from its original Finnish, and for help with translating I'd like to thank the whole language-help channel on HWD, without you publishing this would not have been possible.

Also thank you Surpassing_Morning (AO3) for betaing and tolerating my complaining when I got stuck on this fic!

And a special thank to Blood_Maiden (AO3) for giving this fic her blessing as the resident Belarus-expert!

Please note this includes discussion about death and war, so if you're sensitive to those, tread carefully.

* * *

Natalya was missing.

Katya wasn't sure what had woken her up. It was still dusky outside, but the sun, still preparing to rise, shed its dim gleam into the small cabin. In the soft light Katya could make out the bed of her little sister's, from which said sister was missing. A quiet voice in her head reminded her that Natalya wasn't the only one missing, but with the effortlessness acquired by experience, she pushed the thought aside.

The front door opened with a tired creak, as it always had, and the scent of grass and morning dew greeted her. The call of a cuckoo sounded in the distance. The sky was coloured with soft shades of yellow and orange by the sun that still hung just below the horizon, and pink clouds sailed sluggishly up above. It was lighter outside than Katya had assumed.

"Natasha?" Katya nearly whispered, as if she was afraid too loud a sound would scare the sun back into its hiding place. In the quiet morning air, however, the sound must've reached Natalya, as Katya's eyes were drawn to the light hair falling into view at the corner of the old stable.

"Over here."

Katya hesitated at the door. The complete absence of sound from the stable was even more deafening in the quiet of the early morning. In the end she steeled herself, tried to keep the silence from her mind and started the short trek across the yard.

"What are you doing up this early?" Katya asked, still almost whispering. Morning dew wet her bare feet and straws stuck to their surface, tickling her toes as she made her way to the stable. Natalia didn't respond, merely disappeared behind the stable without a sound.

"You almost had me worried there," Katya continued, reaching the corner of the empty stable, "Usually the only one awake this early is-" The words stuck to her throat. Natalya was on her knees on the ground, furiously ripping weeds from around at least half a dozen bright yellow sunflowers.

Katya stared at the flowers for a moment, silent. She took a step closer to Natalya, reaching towards her. "...Where did you-"

"Volkova's son died the other day," Natalya blurted, bluntly, not looking at her sister. Katya stopped. She slowly lowered her hand.

"Do you remember?" Natalya asked as she continued weeding the flowerbed. "Oleg. He always came to ask me and Vanechka to play with the other children. Even though Vanechka usually couldn't go, he still asked every time."

Katya said nothing. The occasional mosquito whined past. The call of a cuckoo and the sound of weeds getting ripped out by their roots were the only other sounds in the cool morning.

"He worked in Gorky, in some factory. One of the ones the Germans bombed," Natalya brushed a few strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. A smear of dirt was left on her cheek.

":..Where did you hear about this?" Katya asked quietly, crossing her arms. Other birds were starting to wake, they were chirping and twittering in the nearby trees.

"I couldn't sleep. I went for a walk, and happened to hear when they brought the news to his family. They'd found Oleg in the rubble only last night. His mother left to bring him home," Natalya said and tore one weed out so violently dirt sprayed all around, from her own nightdress to the stable wall. For a long time it was very quiet.

When Natalya didn't continue, Katya assumed she'd already finished what she'd been going to say. Before she herself got a word out, Natalya let out a loud sob. Katya was startled.

"Natasha-"

"It's not fair," Natalya said, voice thick from tears, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Katya didn't have to guess to know what her sister was talking about. A mosquito landed on Katya's crossed arms, but she couldn't see it through the film of tears.

"It's not fair that they have all of Oleg," Natalya swallowed her tears, took hold of a rock she'd uncovered from the dirt and continued, now sounding angry, "that they'll get to see him again, no matter how badly crushed, and they'll get to bury him and visit him whenever they want, but we were left with not even a strand of Vanechka's hair!"

Katya barely flinched as Natalya threw the rock at the stable wall with all her might and punched her fists to the ground in front of her. Even through her tears Katya saw how her sister shook with the force of the sobs, sobs the fifteen-year-old girl tried in vain to keep inside. Katya couldn't say a thing. In part because she didn't know what to say, and in part because, at that very moment, it was all she could do not to break down in tears herself.

It took a while for Katya to gather the courage to open her mouth. Natalya's sobs had not quieted.

"Natasha…" Katya began, but flinched when the girl quickly turned towards her, fire in her red-rimmed eyes. Long strands of blond hair stuck to the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"And you! Why do you act as if he never existed?" Natalya asked with an accusatory tone. Her voice broke at the end of the sentence. Even though Katya knew her sister well enough to know it was easier for her to be angry than sad, the words still felt like a dagger made of shame and grief that struck her with force, and filled her chest so that it was almost hard to breathe.

"I don't act like that," Katya said quietly, even though she knew it was a lie. The tears she'd blinked away once already returned. They burned her eyes more than before, or maybe that was just the doing of shame. Now it was Natalya who said nothing, and the silence made Katya look away.

"Vanechka would be sad if he knew that you want to forget."

"I don't want to forget him," Katya raised her voice slightly, but didn't look at her sister.

"That's what it seems like!" Natalia stood up so quickly that she missed her foot catching the hem of her nightdress. The garment ended up with a nasty looking tear.

"You haven't mentioned him once since the winter almost two years ago! His photo is still on the table, wrapped in the paper, frame and all, and I haven't seen that letter we received either. You haven't even set foot on this side of the yard!" she exclaimed and gestured at the stable, in the process swatting one of the smaller sunflowers. The delicate stem bent and the beautiful yellow bloom was left hanging upside down. Natalya didn't seem to notice, but a frustrated sob escaped her lips. Katya tried to blink away the tears but couldn't stop her lower lip from trembling, no matter how hard she clenched her teeth and wrapped her arms around herself. It hurt that she couldn't, in good conscience, deny anything Natalya had said. From the corner of her eye Katya saw Natalya look away as well.

For a while neither of them moved. Natalya said nothing, somewhat out of breath from her outburst, but stomped off past Katya, towards the yard. The sun was peeking over the horizon, but it's rays only touched the very tops of the trees. New voices joined the concert of birds, but the cuckoo had fallen silent.

It was only after the tears had started to dry up, that Katya heard the thunk of the wooden well lid being moved aside by Natalya, and then a splash as the bucket hit the water. Katya wiped her eyes. Natalya was giving her the time to calm down, she was taking more time than usual lifting water from the well. Katya took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. She glanced at the small bent sunflower, took a few steps closer and lifted it, gently brushed the smooth petals. How long had they been growing here? She hadn't seen them the last time she'd laid her eyes on the stable, back in- ...Ah, well, perhaps it had been a while.

Natalya returned with a half a bucket of water. Katya stepped aside as she once again settled on the ground on her knees, this time remembering to tie the torn hem of her nightdress out of the way, and plucked the last few weeds from around the sunflowers. The bent flower, which Katya had carefully let back down before moving out of Natalya's way, was now drooping sadly. Natalya didn't seem to pay it any mind, but instead began to water the plants, first by scooping the water with her hands, and soon by carefully pouring it from the bucket.

"...You don't understand," Natalya began to speak again, her voice steady and her face expressionless. Her eyes were still a little puffy, but they weren't as red as they'd been before. Katya thought she hadn't been the only one in need of time to calm down.

"What do I not understand?" Katya asked as collectedly as she could. She couldn't help but notice how her own voice still trembled. Natalya stayed silent for a moment longer, but Katya didn't repeat her question.

"I know," Natalya began as she set the almost empty bucket on the ground beside her, "that you've lost many people. Father, mother, our grandparents, other siblings."

Katya said nothing, only listened, but sat on the morning dew covered ground next to her sister. Natalya hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"I don't remember our father. Or our mother. I don't… Unlike you two, I never got to know them."

Natalya kept her eyes glued to the flower stems as she spoke. Katya plucked a straw of hay from the ground and spun it around in her hands, but didn't look away from the girl.

"You were only two years old back then." Natalia nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"I… I know... that for you, Vanechka is only one more loss among the rest," Natalya said, slowly, as if saying it aloud was physically painful for her, and Katya's hands froze in place, "but I haven't lost anyone before. You know? Everyone else in our family died before I had a chance to learn anything about them. I've never had anyone other than you two. I don't know what it should feel like, to have a mom and a dad, but when I think of home, and those I care about and who care about me… I've always only seen the two of you. And even you left me and Vanechka with General Morozov in Leningrad, by ourselves."

Natalya's tone of voice hadn't changed, nor had her volume risen, but Katya still heard the hurt and disappointment hiding behind those words. Shame didn't quite rise to her cheeks, but even after all these years it scorched her insides. She looked away. Natalya took a deep breath.

"But Vanechka...Vanechka didn't leave me. He stayed there with me. He's always been by my side, and I by his, whatever has happened, and now… Vanechka is gone. He's gone, but it feels like… Like no one cares. You haven't spoken about him, in the village not one person has mentioned him, and I understand why, people die all the time in war, why should one person be remembered more than someone else?" Natalya let out a short, bitter laugh and clasped her hands tightly on her lap, "But it's as if… It's as if his death doesn't matter to anyone. As if I'm the only one who's lost him."

Natalya looked up at the bent flower, unclasped her hands and brushed the bright petals. She plucked off a single petal and held it, gently, in the palm of her hand. Katya watched her from the corner of her eye.

"The only one who still remembers," Natalya's voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, and she let the petal fall. Her face remained unchanged. The sun was already warming the ridge of the stable roof, bright yellow flowers reaching for the rays. The coolness of the night was finally receding. Only the chirping of birds carried in the misty morning.

Katya was uncertain. She couldn't help her hesitance, she'd never been good with words. They were so difficult, you could misunderstand them or get confused. Thus, in Katya's opinion, the best way to communicate was freshly baked bread, or a pair of beautifully embroidered socks, or perhaps a scarf, knitted with love. They, however, wouldn't help her now, and that's what was making her so unsure.

The silence stretched on. Before Katya could mull over her decision any longer Natalya stirred, as if to leave, and Katya blurted out:

"I was your age when mother and father died."

Natalya whipped her head towards Katya. Even from the corner of her eye Katya saw the surprise on her face. Katya had surprised herself as well, really. For a moment she wished she could take back her words and let Natalya go on her way, but what was done was done. Once she began she could not stop, not before she'd said it all, otherwise it'd never be said. Thus, she kept going.

"Fifteen years old. Vanechka had his ninth birthday, back then. You were two years old, as I said. I'm not quite sure when, exactly, our grandparents passed away, but Vanya was very small when that happened. I don't think he would've remembered them at all if I hadn't told him about them," Katya said and couldn't stop a small, melancholy smile from forming on her lips. She spun the straw around and around between her thumb and her index finger, and noted that Natalya had turned towards her, just a bit.

"Out of my twenty-eight years of life on this earth, I lived fifteen with my parents, but over twenty of them with my brother. If we don't count the time you spent at Morozov's, or these last three years, the result is around seventeen years, still longer than with anyone else." Natalya had now fully turned to face her, but Katya kept her eyes on the straw.

"I remember the day Vanechka saw sunflowers for the first time. We were visiting Gorky with father, I can't remember what for, and we passed a small field. It was love at first sight. On the way back home father got a small bag of seeds, Vanechka wanted to try to grow them. I remember how proud he was when he finally got them to bloom, all by himself. He gave us all flowers, you as well, but you tried to eat yours so mother had to take it away." Natalya snorted in slight amusement, but stayed silent otherwise.

"I remember your faces when I came to take you back home from Leningrad. I remember how tired Vanechka was after having plowed the fields and the gardens by himself for the first time. I remember how happy he became when we gave him that scarf of his," Katya felt her smile start to tremble. She felt tears stinging her nose and burning her eyes. The image of the straw began to blur.

"I remember Vanechka's smile, how he waved us goodbye the day he walked down that road, left to join the army. I remember the letters, where he always remembered to ask after your studies and his flowers. I remember the letter. I remember that horrific, unreal feeling. I remember the wreath you made, I remember the empty coffins, the wooden crosses…" Katya drew a trembling breath, and as she blinked, she felt hot tears escape through her lashes onto her cheeks. It was hard to speak. It was as if she was choking on grief. Natalya stayed completely silent, unmoving. Katya tried to continue, but she felt her voice failing before the first words had left her lips. Instead a half-stifled sob, from somewhere deep within her chest, surfaced. Katya swallowed. The crying would have to come later. She had to say this now.

"I-I remember... " Katya sniffled and swallowed again, hoping her voice wouldn't crack, "...I remember thinking about h-how it happened. I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't stop. Was he alone? Was he scared? Did he have time to realize what happened, or was it all over quickly? What did he think about then, in that moment? Maybe mother and father. Us? Did he call out for mother at the very end?" Everything was just a big blur in Katya's eyes. It was difficult to speak.

"...Did he call out for me?"

Katya no longer saw the soft yellow sky, sprinkled with the light pink clouds, nor the meadow filled with a hundred different shades of green. All she saw were the familiar blue eyes, with the tinge of violet, but they weren't bright and smiling like usual, not even afraid, only glazed over and empty-

"Katyusha."

Katya flinched. A cool hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, guided her back into the present, and Katya remembered to breathe again. The image of the eyes faded. Somehow Katya wished it'd stayed a while longer. She felt the sting of longing in her chest. Katya blinked and the world came a bit more into focus. Hot tears ran down her face and her nose was all stuffy. There was a stinging feeling on her palms, and when Katya took a look at them, she realized she'd balled her hands into fists hard enough for her fingernails to have broken some skin. She slowly spread out her fingers. They felt stiff. The morning light dimmed suddenly, as a large cloud slowly covered the sunrise.

"...Y-you aren't the only one who remembers," Katya almost whispered, voice barely carrying, and broke the silence. She let her hands rest on her lap. She had to sniffle. Natalya's hand moved, but surprisingly she did not pull away. Katya couldn't bear to look at her, but her light figure was visible at the very edge of her field of vision. She'd sat right next to Katya.

"I couldn't forget, not even if I wanted to. And I don't." Natalya kept looking at her, silently. Silence, that was the worst possible answer Katya could have received. She closed her eyes tiredly. A mosquito whined right in front of her face, but she didn't care to swipe it away.

"...Why haven't you said anything?" Natalya's voice was even, but one couldn't miss the accusatory tone. Katya half sighed, half sobbed, and squeezed her eyes closed, shoulders slumping from the weight of guilt and shame. Natalya didn't move, and for some reason, her presence hadn't turned icy, only slightly cooled. She was being almost… understanding. Katya buried her face into her hands and wished she could push the tears back inside. She'd cry herself dry soon.

"I… I c-couldn't. I can't." Katya could almost hear Natalya frown.

"You can't?" Natalya repeated.

"I…. can't do it," Katya wiped her puffy eyes as she lifted her head to face the sun, rising steadily somewhere behind the dark cloud. Natalya didn't speak, she waited for her sister to continue. The concert of the birds sounded from the nearby trees, bright and clear.

"If…" Katya sniffled and took a deep breath, "...If I don't speak of it, any of it… I can almost believe it never happened. I-if, if I don't open the letters, if I don't look at the photo, it's almost as if Vanechka had never left. If I don't visit this side of the yard, I can imagine the stable hasn't stayed silent as a grave these past four years. If… If I don't think about it, I can still believe he'll come sauntering back home from the stable or from town as on any other normal day. You know?" Katya turned her head towards Natalya, but kept her eyes at the horizon. For a time silence hung in the air between the two.

"You know he won't," Natalya said, and Katya could've sworn her voice, too, was trembling. Katya lowered her head and closed her eyes once again. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"But I don't want to believe it."

"Katya…" Natalya sounded almost disappointed, and her hand began to lift from Katya's shoulder. Katya shook her head in frustration, one fierce jerk of her head from side to side, and sobbed. It came from somewhere deep inside, from the fountainheads of her grief, and with it bubbled up tears as well as words.

"I know! I know, know, know! He's not here anymore! He's gone! He won't bring firewood to the stove in the mornings, he won't rid the garden of weeds, I know! You've done his tasks for nearly two years now, and I know, I know I should, should have taken half of them at the very least, I should've placed his photo in a place of honor, I should've told you everything about him you don't remember yourself, I should've done so much more, I should've, but…" Katya choked down sobs and turned to Natalya, who had, at some point, pulled her hand from her shoulder, and who was now staring at her, eyes wide and weirdly shiny. Katya managed to, and not even she could figure out how, but she managed to smile at her sister, apologetically, and the smile was only a little warped by the crying.

"...But big sister isn't strong enough," Katya said in a fake-happy tone, as if this wasn't what she'd thought every night before falling asleep, every day when seeing Natalya do the work of someone way above her age and physique from the window of their little cabin, every time clamming up when Natalya mentioned Ivan, even in passing, every time noticing the dust-covered photo frame, wrapped in brown paper with care, waiting on the table. As if it didn't keep her awake, didn't scorch her insides with the flames of shame and inadequacy, of uselessness.

Natalya stared at her sister without a word, eyes wide. Katya didn't have the courage to say anything herself, as Natalya looked as if she'd take flight from even the smallest breeze. Thick silence hung in the air between them, and Katya saw that Natalya's hand, still raised, was trembling, as was her chin, if so ever imperceptibly. As the girl blinked, tears clung to her lashes, but not one of them fell. Silence remained unbroken, nobody moved, and it seemed like even the birds had quieted down.

Natalya was the first to move. She swallowed, clenched her jaw, took a breath and jerked forward. Katya started, as Natalya took her by the hands, both hands, so that the marks left by the nails twinged, and squeezed. She looked into Katya's eyes, firmly, forcing her to pay every last bit of attention to her words.

"We are at war. Nobody's strong enough for that. Would anyone blame Oleg for not being strong enough to survive a point-blank hit from a bomb?" Natalya asked, her voice astoundingly even, and Katya shook her head minutely.

"Katyusha, you are not weak. I know, because someone, who from the age of fifteen takes care of herself and her two siblings, all on her own, cannot be weak. We all have our moments of weakness, perhaps, and even if you're having one of those now, so what?" Natalya loosened her deathgrip on Katya's hands but pulled them closer to herself.

"I'll be strong for you as well," Natalya concluded, and even though her eyes still shone with tears, there was determination in them, as well as something else. Something Katya recognized from the reflected eyes of her fifteen-year-old self, something she'd seen in her brother's eyes at an even younger age.

Katya sniffled and gently shook her left hand free of Natalya's grasp. She dipped her fingers into the thin layer of water left on the bottom of the bucket and carefully wiped away the dried up smear of dirt on Natalya's cheek.

"We didn't want you to have to grow up so early as well," Katya whispered and gave Natalya a sad smile. Natalya didn't smile back, but pressed her cheek fully against Katya's warm palm and looked down.

"I suppose it runs in the family," Natalya muttered and made Katya hum shortly in amusement.

"I suppose," Katya admitted and softly stroked her little sister's cheek with her thumb.

The birdsong had quieted, although it hadn't fully disappeared. The dark cloud sailed in its slow pace and finally revealed the sunrise, and the sun, from which the shades of red and orange were already fading, shed it's warm light. The rays of light hit the tallest sunflowers, and they reached for it with their slow, plant-like motions.

When the sun reached the flower hanging upside down, Katya sat at the foot of the stable wall, Natalya by her side, both leaning against the sturdy wood. Natalya had fetched Katya's sewing supplies from the cabin, and was now stitching the hem of her nightdress back together. Katya observed the flight of the little birds from one tree to another. One wagtail was brave; it landed at the base of the sunflowers, hopped around for a little while, and eventually flew past the chopping block and all the piles of wood waiting to be chopped, all the way to the edge of the forest. There it landed on a lonely headstone and pumped its tail up and down for a moment. The bird flew off and continued on its way, but Katya's eyes remained on the stone. Grandmother's grave.

"...Natasha?"

"Hm?" Natalya didn't look up from the hem of her dress.

"Would you like to visit the war graves today?"

Natalya's fingers halted, but she didn't look up. After a moment she continued sewing as if she had never paused in the first place.

"No."

Katya turned to Natalya.

"No?" Katya had to check that she'd heard correctly. Natalya glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

"...I'd rather just come here," Natalya said and hissed in irritation as the sewing needle strayed and pricked her finger. Katya observed her silently.

"He isn't here, Natasha."

"He isn't there either. He would've liked this place better anyway," Natalya tied off the sewing work with care, took the needle and the thimble and placed them into the small box they belonged in. She handed it to a puzzled Katya and cut off the leftover thread with her teeth.

"But…" Katya began before falling silent, suddenly deep in thought.

"How many flowers does that flowerbed have?" Katya asked at last. Natalya eyed her needlework, even though it didn't appear to have mistakes, and didn't look up before answering.

"Seven."

Katya considered her idea for a second. In the end, she nodded to herself and stood up, handing the little sewing box back to Natalya. She took it, uncertain, and stared at Katya with a questioning look. Katya only gave her a sad smile, made her way to the sunflowers, and carefully picked the upside-down hanging delicate flower, severing the stem at the bend.

"There," Katya said and pulled Natalya up by her hand. Natalya glanced at the flowers, then at Katya. It took a few seconds before her eyes flashed with understanding. She didn't say anything, though, just nodded and brushed off the straws on her nightdress.

Katya took one more look at the flowerbed at the end of the stable. The sun shone on the grey, weathered stable wall, and the foot of the wall, already starting to decay, was lined by a deep green moss. Bright and magnificent, against the grey wood shone six sunflowers.

"He truly would've loved this," Katya admitted, the last of her tears rising to her eyes. Natalya glanced at her, nodded, and picked the water bucket off the ground.

"Sunflowers are so beautiful in bloom."

* * *

A/N: 1. Gorky was the name of the city now known as Nizhny Novgorod from 1932 to 1990.

2\. In Russia, an even number of flowers is reserved for funerals, cemeteries, memorials, to honoring the dead. Seven is an odd number, six is an even number.

3\. Katya is the diminutive of the name Ekaterina, Katyusha being another, more affectionate diminutive. Natasha is the diminutive of Natalya, and Vanya and Vanechka are both diminutives of the name Ivan. I'm sure many of you already knew, but just in case!

Hope y'all enjoyed!


End file.
